a birthday (slipping through my fingers)

School bag in hand, she leaves home in the early morning.

Waving good-bye with an absent-minded smile

I watch her go with a surge of that well known sadness

And I have to sit down for a while

The feeling that I'm losing her forever

And without really entering her world

I'm glad whenever I can share her laughter

That funny little girl

Princess Commando was the first girl child. There was concern that she would come too early-that she was too small. On the morning of August 22, 2002, after months of bed rest, and only one week before her due date, she let me know that she was ready. I went outside, wrapped in the peace of early morning and sat on a lounger in our yard, riding out the first swells. First Born Son, oblivious to my laboring, tiptoed outside and snuggled beside me. "Isn't this a wonderful day, mommy? Don't you want to do this every day?" He meant, of course, to sit outside before the others woke, listening to bird call in the treetops. But, if I were to be sentenced to labor every day of my life for eternity, that is how I would want it to go. Welcomed by bird song on a clear summer morning; swift (albeit intense) and uneventful labor and delivery; centered in myself-in the world- as I pull the weight of a slippery new life to my chest; falling in love with a little face, the face of a stranger I know so well; whispering the words, for the first time, "My daughter."

Slipping through my fingers all the time

I try to capture every minute

The feeling in it

Slipping through my fingers all the time

Do I really see what's in her mind

Each time I think I'm close to knowing

She keeps on growing

Slipping through my fingers all the time

We wondered, after two rough and tumble boys, if she would be softer, more demure. She was "quiet as a church mouse," so the labor/delivery nurse kept remarking. But she made up for the initial silence as soon as we brought her home and it became apparent that she would need to compete for time and attention. It is a primal defense- to make the loudest noise, a sonic boom to assert, "I am here. I know what I want and I will not compromise." Or, "Back the hell off!" It almost always works to make her brothers retreat from their taunting. She has a tender side- but she is not too soft. She has been a daredevil and a heart attack- from a broken collar bone at two years old to an adventurous climb to the top of her brother's chest of drawers. She toppled the drawers onto her own chest- walking away stunned but without a scratch. The drawers, however, did not survive, she managed to split them in half.

 Sleep in our eyes, her and me at the breakfast table

Barely awake I let precious time go by

Then when she's gone there's that odd melancholy feeling

And a sense of guilt I can't deny

What happened to the wonderful adventures

The places I had planned for us to go

Well, some of that we did but most we didn't

And why I just don't know

For so many years, in my illustrating, she was my muse. Her play, her poses inspired characters and stories. She, too, is an artist. At four years old, she drew a detailed picture of me (curls, glasses and all) with a little person (all ten fingers and all ten toes) inside my belly. A little Annalee- remembering her amphibious days. The time when we two were one.

She is as comfortable carrying a stuffed animal as she is a toy gun. On the day this picture was taken, the moniker Princess Commando was born. What I could not capture in this series of pictures from Halloween 2004 was the elusive little girl in a frilly princess dress chasing elementary school kids with a hefty fallen tree branch.

Slipping through my fingers all the time

I try to capture every minute

The feeling in it

Slipping through my fingers all the time

Do I really see what's in her mind

Each time I think I'm close to knowing

She keeps on growing

Slipping through my fingers all the time

We bid farewell to the days of eight this weekend. It was a long good bye with  a visit to my parents' cottage on Saturday where she sat with a friend on the beach and dug trenches under cloudy skies and then hula hooped in the woods as the sun went down. On Sunday, we took our only family trip this year-an overnight stay at an indoor splash park in Pennsylvania.  Our girl confirmed that she was growing up with her request for an iPod for her 9th birthday. Part of growing up is learning how to save money for what your heart desires. This has been a challenging lesson for our impulsive girl. But, she is keeping up her end of the bargain and her prize is now within reach. I feel a twinge of sadness at the thought of her giving up her stuffed animals for gangsta rap and krumping.

Sometimes I wish that I could freeze that picture 

And save it from the funny tricks of time

Slipping through my fingers...

I scroll through pictures of my girl at different stages- a toddler self, a pre-schooler, elementary school age; and, shake my head in disbelief. My girl is nine. I glimpse ahead at what is to come as her teenage brother saunters into the room reeking of AXE- and I want to stop time. I want to preserve her- the girl who finds charm in  her baby sister calling her 'Anna-mal,' the girl who is still so innocent, so creative and resourceful (she asked me the other day- after a very premature lesson in feminine hygiene if she could use untouched tampons to create craft animals), the girl who still wants me to call her 'My peanut, my honey, my sugar pie, my poopernutter, my lovey dovey, my AnnieBananie.' The girl who still wants to curl up in a ball on my lap (she still fits).

How is it that this little sprite...

...turned into this young lady in what seems like the blink of an eye?

 Slipping through my fingers all the time

School bag in hand, she leaves home in the early morning.

Waving good-bye with an absent-minded smile...

-Benny Andersson, Bjorn Ulvaeus lyrics

Oh ABBA, why did you have to go and write a song that would make me get all choked up and emotional?